Story – The Stray – Part 1
“The Stray”
-by FurCreamer
I. First Contact
The very thin gray clouds Devika Ram’s breath formed whisked away into the cold night air as soon as they emerged. She stood rigidly still, wishing she could silence even the breath from her mouth. She wished she were invisible, as well. Above all, she wished she were a thousand miles away from this floodlit barn, its smells, its sounds, and its terrifying sights.
The tall, athletic woman of Hindu descent was not concerned about the cold, or the night. The enormous, rather outrageously styled black fox coat that covered her far more conservative white fatigues and gear kept the cold very effectively at bay. Only where the tall, flared collar parted to reveal the fine chestnut hued features of her face did the cold even strike her skin. The long guard hairs of the fox fluttered and separated in ripples as stronger gusts of wind cut across the wide, fluffy pelts ringing her face.
The light from the small ranch’s pole-mounted floods split the darkness against the side of a partially collapsed barn. The light threw a complete shadow over the half of the structure that remained standing, and much of the terrible thing it contained. In plan view to the very lonely and terrified Devika was another figure in a massive fox coat. That would be Morgana, Devika’s “boss”, or commanding officer, or however they cared to talk about it in their little mercenary family. Devika felt a grim certainty that family would not survive this night, unlike so many other perilous nights before.
Morgana’s long, athletic form hung suspended about three feet in the air. She twisted, still screaming as her body was shaken like a doll in a similarly giant fur coat. Her long blonde hair whipped around her chiseled features. Morgana’s blue fox coat was much like the massive black one Devika wore, ankle-length and crafted to ridiculous proportions. It was much the same color as the things that suspended the tall, thin mercenary over the wrecked half of the barn.
They were, for lack of any better term Devika’s horrified mind could conjure, tentacles. Yet they were not the segmented, slimy tubes which inhabited the dreams of many a hentai artist. Nor were they slick and lined with suction cups like an octopus or giant squid. They were like living fur boas. Giant, round boas made of some kind of thick, ultra-fluffy fox-like fur. They were as big around as the woman’s thigh, and ended in big, round “cuffs” like they were the insanely long sleeves of a giant fur coat. The “cuffs” at the end were over two feet long, round, and over a foot thick, each one like a giant barrel muff.
They were six in all, Devika morbidly assessed. All of them were curled in some way around the tall blonde Morgana and her giant blue fox coat. Two curled around her midsection, one around her neck, the rest attached to the woman’s arms and legs. All of them threaded back into the deep shadow of the half-collapsed barn. There they met with a quite enormous figure that Devika could not make out in the pitch black shadows beyond the floodlight’s glare. For that she was thankful. What little ambient light fell in there suggested the fur tentacles were attached to something larger than a the van that delivered her team to this icy mountain.
The fox fur boa tentacles seemed to be toying with Morgana. Their thick, round, muff-like ends pulled her in different directions. Many seemed quite interested in Morgana’s blue fox coat. To Devika’s chilled mind they seemed to be rubbing themselves against it. The boa-tentacle curled like a massive snake around Morgana’s neck rubbed the giant, round, muff-end up and down against the vast blue fox collar of Morgana’s coat. Morgana struggled, jerking her arms and legs to try and get some leverage, despite being suspended in midair and unable to find any purchase. Devika knew her boss would never break free like that.
She was also sure she had no plans to sacrifice herself to come to the rescue.
Devika’s panicked mind formulated a simple plan. She would stand rock still and wait. She would stand still even with the cleaned, polished G36 automatic rifle in her gloved hands. That beast was obviously content with Morgana. She’d let it finish then slip away- far, far away. Screw the job, screw the money, this thing was just too fucking much. She had no idea what happened to their vanished comrades Cynthia and Belle, but if that thing had any part in it, she didn’t want to know.
Morgana screamed. She screamed for Cynthia and Belle, and for Devika. She screamed until the fluffy furred tentacle around her neck stopped stroking her blue fox coat’s huge fluffy collar and slid up very close to her open red lips. Devika couldn’t immediately tell what happened, but a terrified shriek by Morgana was suddenly cut short in a loud, wet gag. Chill waves of terror ran down her spine as Morgana’s mid-air twisting revealed the cause.
From the muff-like end of the boa tentacle a fat shaft sprung right into Morgana’s open, screaming mouth. The size of the shaft forced Morgana’s jaws open as the beast tilted her head back and jammed it deeper and deeper into her throat. Her eyes widened in a rictus of agony as her throat puffed outward, signaling the continued passage of the huge, meaty shaft. Devika watched as the other furry tentacles responded in kind. The deep, recesses on the extremities of the other fur tentacles displayed similar horrid growth.
Devika’s heart pounded in her chest at the terrifying size of the phallic forms erecting from the ends of the tentacles’ muffs. Each one had to be over a foot long, and from this distance, Devika knew that must be a conservative estimate. The furry tentacles went to work, sliding the huge monster erections up and down the sides of Morgana’s blue fox coat. Those not choking her throat were rubbing themselves luridly up and down the sides, tail and thick sleeves of the soft fur. The massive fur was mauled in every direction by the furry tentacle cocks.
Morgana’s twisting slowed some, becoming more of a bounce as the thick, rotund boa tentacle cocks found rhythm in their frenzied thrusting. They pounded against the blue fox coat relentlessly while Morgana’s throat was plunged by at least ten inches of hard flesh. Morgana’s body convulsed as she gasped for even a small breath. Finally it pulled back, sensing her spasms and giving her a gulp air. Once that gulp went down, the cock rammed down after it, filling her gullet once more.
The phallic shapes raping the gigantic blue fox coat in which Morgana twisted were suddenly throbbing faster and faster. The erratic movements of Morgana’s swaying body made it hard to be certain, but not all the penile erections jutting from the tentacles’ muff-ends appeared to be exactly the same. Devika could almost feel the heat emanating from the half collapsed barn across the clearing where she hid.
The pelts were battered and squashed, not only by the cocks themselves but also by the twisting, fluffy curls of the boa tentacles to which they were attached. They squeezed, fur on fur, as they circled Morgana’s body like soft but deadly pythons. They shook and throbbed faster and faster, their movements more violently powerful with each passing moment. The tips of the various phallic forms greedily plowed into the blue fox fur coat. Devika felt the electric charge of their pleasured thrusting echoing the in the darkness. The tentacles’ impassioned, total rape built to an inevitable climax the terrified spectator could only watch helplessly.
It began without any kind of pleasured scream. Only the howl of the wind greeted the spectacular, pent-up bursts of fluid that began spraying wildly from the fur tentacle’s cocks. The first one exploded right into the back of the fox coat’s huge collar, spraying paste-thick white spooge out like a broken hydrant. The glue-like, pearly white spunk gushed into the back of Morgana’s long blonde hair, over the top of the massive rounded back of the collar, and down the back of the coat. It ejaculated in fat, wide bursts befitting the thickness of the steaming goop. The holes on the ends of each tentacle opened wide as the white jelly sluiced out in ragged, pulsing splurts.
The other tentacles followed quickly after the rabid spewing onto Morgana’s face, hair, and collar. Jets of spunk, thick as molasses, erupted against the giant blue fox coat. All the cocks save one were aiming directly at the coat as they vomited their horrifically voluminous loads. The bubbling, chunky white stew rained in torrents and soaked almost every inch of the blue fox in mere moments as the boa tentacles fired off in unison. They even soaked themselves in the frenzied gushes of cum. The fluffy, coiled tentacle shafts took splatters and wide ribbons of their own cocksnot, matting down the fur in wide swaths.
Devika watched with eyes widened as Morgana’s body jerked and convulsed more brutally than before. She knew it could only mean the fat, throbbing dick lodged in her throat was also spraying its vile, putrid white effluent deep into the blonde’s stomach. Devika flinched as she watched the boa tentacle extract itself from Morgana’s mouth in a geysering spray of thick goo that vomited up from her abused throat. As Morgana’s toned body tried to expel the jellied sperm in her stomach, the tentacle cock finished its “work” and shot more bolts of the steaming spunk directly into her face and hair, running down her cheeks and splattering the inside of the massive blue fox fur coat’s collar.
Devika winced not only at the sights but the smells the wind carried across the clearing. She’d smelled the raw scent of sex before, but the gallons of gummy, viscous white semen the furry tentacles spewed hit her nostrils like a hard slap. The pungent odor of the creature’s ejaculate suffused the entire area, most all of it now stuck to Morgana’s face and her completely ruined blue fox coat. The coat sagged around the tall blonde’s shoulders, heavier now by an untold number of pounds added by the dense white fluid soaking it. The pelts were pulverized and soaked, completely destroyed by the furry tentacles’ lustful rape.
Morgana’s cum splattered body was summarily dropped like a wasted tissue. She collapsed to the rubble of the barn’s north face. Devika tensed, her fingers curling in their gloves. She watched as the cocks at the end of the boa tentacles slowly began to recede into the round, gossamer body of their muff-like extremities. The rotund boa tentacles themselves were dripping with their own wildly ejaculated sperm. Slowly they began to recede into the darkness of the barn, to the massive beast from which they sprang. Big blobs of the stinking, wet goo broke off and left steaming puddles on the ground as they went. The beast to which they returned remained hidden in the darkness. Devika waited for any signs of moment, signs that would be quite obvious considering its size.
Nothing moved for five minutes.
The scent of the beast’s cum was still heavy in the air. Morgana’s unmoving, dripping body lay splayed on top of the collapsed barn’s broken boards. Devika felt some remorse clawing up her spine, thinking that perhaps she could get them both to safety. Another glance at the soaked, steaming body, and she crammed those thoughts back down. The thing was still in there, waiting. Possibly waiting for that very event, a wayward comrade trying to save its last victim. Devika clutched the assault rifle in her hands, raised it, and then lowered it. Discretion was the better part of staying alive.
She turned and began to run back into the woods.
Athletic and conditioned, Devika launched herself into a sprint then began a more measured pace, knowing she couldn’t afford to stop any time soon. Her heart beat in her chest, breath smoking through the cold night air. She felt the throb of it through her body, down her spine, into her legs. A rhythmic thumping that seemed to shake her entire frame.
It wasn’t her heart.
The throbbing moved in the opposite direction, through the snowy ground and up her legs. The sound of a steady, iterated gallop interrupted by the snap and smash of small saplings and shrubs, signaling the forest was splitting apart. Devika knew what was happening. Knew she had to run faster, to just try to get away.
Instead she turned her head to look back.
And screamed.
* * *
“What was that, mom?”
A heavily made-up woman in her late thirties craned her head around. Her eyes narrowed as she shrugged. The shoulders of the conservative black mink stroller she wore rose with the gesture. “I don’t know, honey.”
“It sounded like a scream,” the small girl in the sable trimmed ski suit beside her said with a small tremble to her tone.
“Nonsense,” the woman said automatically. She wasn’t sure of that, but a natural instinct to comfort took over. “Even if it was, it was probably just someone falling on the trail up there.” She put her mink sleeved arm around her daughter’s neck and said, “Besides, we’re almost to the top.” The child’s face registered a modicum of disbelief at the assurance, but smiled anyway.
The lift chair swung in the floodlights of the lift system’s tall poles. Around them, others enjoying the night skiing at the Fox Mesa Ski Resort continued to the top of the slope.
* * *
Devika couldn’t scream anymore. Like Morgana, the creature had taken care of that. She felt the hinges of her jaw struggle to stay connected as one of the beast’s boa tentacle phallus introduced itself to her throat. Through the pain exploding from her face she felt something far more alarming somewhere far below her jaw line.
Then her fatigues tore open.
II. Layover
“Fuck!”
Tiffany tossed her head back, lips shouting the curse then forming a wide, open “O”. Her bright, neon red mane splashed back into the pink fox collar that wreathed her face. The blonde streak down her left temple blurred out as the thick shock of long hair mixed with the ultra-long, fluffy fox hairs in the collar. A bead of sweat began a journey down her left cheek.
Something much larger than a mere “bead” began its journey from the gaping tip of Tiffany’s fifteen-inch erection. It was white, hard, and erupted in a staggered, wavy streamer after traveling down the stiff, fat shaft. It landed on the much smaller collar of a very expensive Saga white fox coat. The stream traced a wide wet line over the puff of the glistening colorless collar and down the front of the coat.
The woman wearing the white fox coat was already teary-eyed and red in the cheeks, and this development did not seem to please her further. Her ashen blonde hair was still pulled tightly back in a bun, and her mascara streaked down her cheeks. She would have screamed, but a puffy fox ball gag in her mouth prevented it, just as it had prevented all her previous attempts to do so when the amazonian shemale began her surprise assault. The nameless blonde twisted her head back and up, away from the flared purple head of the “woman’s” pulsing penis, doing her best to keep her sculpted features away from it.
Tiffany’s uncut cock thrust up against the front of the white fox coat, spilling another messy splurt of pearly cocksnot across the front. She had the ash blonde on her knees, locked in a small, dirty room stacked high with luggage. Tiffany had tied the woman’s manicured hands together with the very same red silk scarf with which the anonymous bitch had accented the white fur.
The small room was cramped, and the splatter from Tiffany’s violently spewing cock was hitting a few of the stacked suitcases. Bet they’ll be scratching their heads about that, she mused as her savage thrusts ground her dick up and down the front of the soft Saga fur coat.
The tip of the massive slab of girldick swung up and slapped the blonde’s chin, leaving a thick blob of semen hanging. “Fuck!” Tiffany grunted again, shooting directly at the woman’s forehead with a giant wad that rolled down the bridge of her nose and into her eyes. The woman squeezed them shut, tears streaming down as the glutinous, salty fluid stung them. Tiffany grinned wickedly when she shot another few bursts into her helpless victim’s face then stepped back.
The tall shemale regarded her handiwork. The woman’s face was slagged with the sticky glue-like jizz. That same spunk drew wet, deep crevasses across the front of the Saga white fox fur, the long hairs matted and soaked by the spurts she sunk directly into them. The small room was filled with the stench of cum, overpowering even the smells of diesel fuel and air freshener.
Tiffany first laid eyes on her in the terminal only about a half hour before, when the lovely white fox coat threatened to give her a rather unmanageable erection. The blonde was with an older man, sporting peppered hair in a business suit. Tiffany had even money the guy was either her father or she was the trophy wife. It hadn’t really come up with their brief conversation. Only enough chit chat to bring the perky blonde down a secluded hallway once she strayed a bit too far from her male companion. Tiffany complimented her wonderful fur coat, of course. A gift… very special to her, naturally. It had been pretty much by the numbers from there…
Tiffany’s cock swung between her legs, her body wrapped in a massive light pink fox coat with barrel-muff cuffs. “Sweet,” she said, reaching down to wipe the tip of her dripping dick on a dry part of the white fox coat while the woman sobbed softly.
There was high-pitched tone that echoed in the cramped compartment.
“Fuck.”
This epithet was not similar to the previous pleased ones. She fished into the deep pockets of the pink fox coat and pulled out her cell phone. Flipping it open she brought it to her cheek.
“Yeah?”
“Brilliant dah’ling, ever the eloquent speaker.”
Tiffany’s frown widened. Her eyes narrowed as she quickly glanced back at the hastily shackled door. She said nothing.
“Looking for something?”
“Eva Gabor.”
“Your wit is sparkling as ever, dah’ling.” The sultry, feminine voice hit the word “wit” with the hard v, sounding like “vit.” The accent was something approximating Russian royalty.
“You have a point?” Tiffany was using her free hand to pull up her zippered white leather skirt and stuff her shrinking cock back between her legs. Her eyes were still focused on the grimy door.
“Not to worry, no one is going to interrupt whatever little escapade you’re having. I simply wish to discuss some… business.”
Tiffany glanced back to the jizz-splattered blonde. “Give me a couple minutes.”
“Ah, of course, little clean up…. I’ll call you back momentarily dah’ling.”
The cell phone flipped shut.
“Nightly night… I’m sure luggage handlers will dig you up sometime,” Tiffany said. She reached down. The blonde’s eyes widened and she tried to rear back away from Tiffany’s approaching hand. Already backed into a corner of one of the large airport’s many luggage-handling rooms, there was no place to go. Tiffany’s fingers slid over the woman’s neck and suddenly the blonde’s eyes rolled back into her head.
“I’m sure if the luggage handlers do find you, they’ll be just as polite as I was about keeping whatever ‘virtue’ you have intact… I mean, unconscious rich white bitch covered in spunk, lying helpless in a secluded area? I’m sure they won’t have any untoward thoughts.”
Artificial light flooded the area around the remote baggage area and suffused Tiffany’s enormous pink fox coat in an unearthly glow. She slammed the rust stained door closed behind her and started to make her way back up inside the main terminal gangway.
* * *
After the short trip back across the open tarmac to an unattended entrance, up a dark flight of metal stairs, Tiffany found an unoccupied terminal waiting area and took a seat near the tall windows. The night just began to give way to dawn. Even in a busy airport there was a lull in activity in the wee hours of the morning. She reclined the padded seat and propped the stiletto heels of her shiny white thigh-boots up on an adjacent chair. The wide sleeves and rounded, outwardly flared collar of the giant pink fox coat took up half of the seats to either side of her.
Absently she fluffed the rolled side of collar, eyes drifting over to the endless line of humanity that passed down the terminal’s central corridor. What would soon be a teeming surge was nothing but an intermittent trickle at the moment. Her cock satisfied, she was able to calmly assess the quality of the various furs that passed by. Most weren’t great. Most weren’t even worth a second glance. That white fox coat had certainly been a nice departure from the usual light, thin minks and sheared furs that passed for fashionable these days.
Too bad for the blonde.
That coat was probably a present from her older companion. Perhaps he had a bit of the fetish in him as well. Perhaps more than a “bit.” Tiffany’s line of reasoning ended as a cell phone tone tried desperately to be noticed from the chinchilla lined pockets of her pink fox coat. Her expression soured as she fished it out.
“Yeah?”
“I trust you’re… available… dah’ling?”
“Yeah.”
Tiffany’s eyes flicked back over to the clear glass wall and settled into watching the wide-bodied jets taxi past to the runway. Their array of red and green night safety lights cast brief tints against the windows, broken up by the intermittent flashing yellows of airport maintenance vehicles.
The silky smooth Slavic tones drifted from the cell phone. “Your… unique… services are required. We have a… stray…”
Tiffany’s sculpted red brow arched slowly in time with her back, raising herself up slightly. “You’ve got to be kidding me. I’m not going to help you hunt down anyone else who called your little slice of paradise quits.”
“Ah, ah… I assure you, dah’ling, that our little family is quite happy… No, the… stray… is not one of our own. It is, shall we say, a little project that escaped our loving care…”
A small bit at the end of Tiffany’s painted lips curled upward as she slid back down into the depths of the chair and the hot embrace of the enormous ankle-length pink fox coat. “My toned, heart-shaped ass.”
There was a brief exhale of breath through the cell phone that no doubt covered some rather speedy mental machinations. “As time does not favor the situation, I will be… honest… much as that concept pains me… We had intended a brief… field test of our little project, and were… unprepared for our success.”
“Catastrophic success? Lot of that going around these days…”
A polite throat cleared itself, “Yes, well, we need you to get our stray back… Failing that, you may terminate it.”
“You kept the recipe, I’m sure.”
The smile almost shone through the phone, “But of course, dah’ling.”
Tiffany stared blankly at the window. She said nothing. The voice on the other end of the phone was reasonably pragmatic when it came to self-interest. That didn’t make her trustworthy, just agreeably predictable. “I’m obviously not the first one you called…”
This resulted in another pause. Tiffany obligingly said nothing.
Finally the velvet accent returned, “Da… We did seek to remedy the situation by… other means. Those means, it seems, have failed. So, I am asking you, as you are unique among us in your training.”
“Unique… How polite.”
“As always.”
Tiffany’s gaze fell on a small commuter jet that paused on the taxiway betyond the glass before her. She could make out a few faces pressed to the round windows, looking out. She wondered if they noticed her. Probably not. To them the terminal wing was a long opaque string of steel, glass, and lights. She was but a minor detail in their view. However unique a detail she was.
“Not entirely unique.”
There was no hesitation here. “I assure you I have yet to contact the Frenchwoman.”
“Keep it that way.”
“I take it you agree, then?” came the distant leap to a positive conclusion.
“What’s in this for me?”
“My eternal gratitude… and perhaps we will not be looking for you quite so much in the future…”
Tiffany’s face registered a disgusted disbelief. “Of course you won’t, I’ll probably be walking around within a 10 mile radius of the ranch, you won’t have to look very hard, will you, my most exulted Countess.” The final words were spoken with little more than contempt.
“We found this cell phone number, did we not?”
“You’ll find it in a landfill when you physically track it down, don’t worry about that.”
“Tiffany, dear, we have little time to play our usual game of benevolent ruler and petulant child. It is in our mutual best interest the ranch remain hidden.” A bemused undertone seeped into the Countess’s voice, “Judging by the number of police reports seeking an unnaturally large woman with… obvious surgical enhancements, you may return to us gratefully in the future. I’m willing to wait.”
Tiffany’s expression became a neutral expression of disinterest as the Countess spoke. She finally said, “Fine… Fine… I want a couple more inches for my trouble… Up front.”
“Seeking status in a society you shun, how amusing,” came the response.
“It’s the one… commodity… I can’t get on my own out here.”
“Whatever, dear, so be it. You’ll have what you want, up front.”
The aircraft, the faces inside, moved on slowly. “The equally amusing thing about this from where I sit is that you’ll have no trouble trusting that I’ll fulfill my end of the bargain even with payment up front, yet I’ll be constantly wondering when I’ll be double crossed…”
“Such distrust, dah’ling. I’m proud.”
More planes, large and small, taxied by. Tiffany briefly wondered what would happen if she stood up, pressed her body to the window, and unleashed her erection against the cold glass. If anyone of the small faces staring out equally small round windows would pick out the massive, yet far off anomaly from their distant view. The idea came dangerously close to providing what would be a rather uncomfortable rush of blood to her now dormant phallus.
“I’ll need my gear. All of it… Including my-”
The Countess broke in, “-Simply call us when you are… in the area… and I will have someone bring it all to you.”
“I want everything you know about your ‘stray,’ including how to kill it.”
“To be included with your gear, naturally.”
Tiffany rose to her stiletto-heeled feet. She swung her hips and shoulders, fluffing up with the massive pink fox coat. There were a few dark streaks down the front of fur, around the tails. Some back splatter from her previous encounter. Nothing anyone would notice, really. Most eyes had habit of falling on the upper half of Tiffany, and it was there they generally remained, quite pleased.
“You understand what you’re doing, right?” Tiffany asked, starting down the center isle towards an internal ticketing counter.
A second passed before the Countess replied, “Da… Containment is now our top priority. At any cost.”
Tiffany approached a middle aged brunette woman in an airline uniform standing behind a raised counter. The woman regarded the amazonian Tiffany with something between shock and incomprehension.
The last thing she said before flipping the cell phone closed was, “Oh, you called me… I guarantee it’s going to be costly now…”
Comments
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3 Comments so far
The Love Of Furs
FurLayers
Great job on this one, Creamer. I’ve got to admit that I particularly enjoy your writing style, as well as your taste in arousal.
Much appreciated, especially for this one, since it’s a tad less “conventional” than most of my stories, and for me that’s saying a lot.
You’re very welcome. And I enjoyed the whole series, though I have yet to come across one of your stories so I didn’t like.